


The AU Fic Without a Name

by Southern_Breeze



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Western, Bank Robbery, Gen, Mystery, Old West, Outlaws, Pinkerton Agents, William's a Proud Pigeon Papa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southern_Breeze/pseuds/Southern_Breeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stagecoach rattled into the dusty, western town one day with a boy apparently back from the dead demanding the deed to his father's ranch. Also with the family property, he had already became a Pinkerton agent and had taken the title of "The President's Hound" - just like his father, but what is this boy up to? So many secrets are waiting in the town known as End of the Line, but is anyone ready for the answers? This is my first true AU, and I hope that everyone can enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. End of the Line

**Author's Note:**

> I don't typically read AU's much less write them, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. I grew up watching a lot of westerns, and I couldn't resist the little Clint Eastwood reference in the title. I sincerely tried to make this a well-written AU. One note: I had no intention of rewriting the original story, but it felt nature to reintroduce the characters.

**The AU Fic Without a Name**

**Chapter 1: End of the Line**

 

The dry, dusty town, which sprang out from the hardened sand more like a clump of desperate weeds rather than an oasis in the middle of the desert, was officially named Octavia. Supposedly, a rather sentimental, old man had christened this patch of earth after his daughter with the idea that it might be as lovely as he thought her to be one day, but life was too hard and ugly here for people to stick to sentiments. At some point, folks took to calling the town End of the Line as it was what the stagecoach drivers used to shout that when they still regularly drove out this far into such rough terrain, and the name stuck. End of the Line was fitting as most that still called this place home had nowhere else they could go. Old outlaws whose eyesight had grown too poor to make their living with a gun, swindlers who no longer could swindle, and the general outcasts of society made up most of the population, and for most this was truly the end of the line.

The sun was still close to the eastern horizon when a stagecoach rattled into town. Eyes reddened by too much sun and cheap whiskey turned drowsily in the direction of the noise since visitors were rare, and once glance at the coach was evident that this was a most unusual visitor indeed. The team of horses were fresh and the rippling muscles of their flanks showed their fine quality. The coach itself was also new and still gleamed in the sun through the dust cloud created by the furious stamping of the horses. The owner of the lone mercantile and the hotel manager eagerly looked out their windows, hoping for new customers with paper money as the gamblers hoped for easy targets. In short, most everyone was excited to see who it was precisely that had chosen to visit their little town.

The coach stopped near the Grim National Bank; a two-story stone structure that was the only building that didn’t seem to be drooping under its own weight as if melting in the sun. The driver, a tall, dark-haired man whose black attire seemed oddly unaffected by the ever present dirt and dust, jumped down from his seat and quickly made his way to the door. After positioning a step, he opened the door and bowed slightly. “We’ve arrived, young master,” he said. His voice was cultured and precise, although there was no discernable accent. The townspeople who were sitting on the front porch of the China Saloon, narrowed their eyes with obvious suspicion and interest at the scene that was playing out before them.

From the shadow of the interior, a young boy emerged and carefully descended. His clothing was obviously tailored and of the finest quality, but it was a suit that seemed far more appropriate for a wealthy man than a boy. The deep blue jacket, the same brilliant color as his visible eye, and matching pants seemed to radiate like a jewel in the plain surroundings, but still there was something about the way he held himself that seemed out of place. His youthful face pinched slightly, tightening about patch he wore over his right eye, as he looked about the town with a distaste that seemed beyond his years. As if the town felt some sort of affection for the boy, the wind danced through gently and tousled his dark hair, which was in need of a trim.

He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and put it over his nose. “I now see why I have so few memories of this town,” he stated, “No doubt, father didn’t want me to see such a dreadful place very often.” Unlike the man, the slightest lacing of a local accent tempered his voice, although his speech was deliberate and proper.

“Is that so?” returned the man, “As your memory is so unreliable, I would think that perhaps you had simply forgotten much about End of the Line.”

The boy spun about and stared up at the man with anger clearly written on his features. “Are you questioning my memory, Sebastian?”

Sebastian smiled slightly, although there was still a teasing light glimmering in his brown irises. “Not at all, master,” he said, “I only recalled that you have had voiced your own doubt in your memory.”

For a few minutes, the boy only stared at him levelly, but then he released a soft sigh. “I have forgotten many things,” he relented, “but I don’t think this town is one of them. There’s no way I could have forgotten anyplace such as this. Now, let’s go. We have things to take care before we return to the ranch.”

“Of course,” Sebastian replied, and the two turned and made their way into the bank.

The inside was surprisingly clean and well-organized for such a small town, but only one teller was currently present at the barred counter. He was working with something just behind the counter, but raised his vivid two-toned green eyes at the sound of someone entering. A sharp toothed smile graced his face when his gaze fell upon Sebastian as he ran one hand through his long, blood red hair. Although only visible from the waist up, he appeared to be stylishly yet professionally dressed with a crisp white shirt and black vest, but his red-framed glasses with a matching eye chain were certainly unique. “Why, hello there,” he sang out, “It’s always nice to see new faces in town, especially faces like yours. Welcome to the Grim National Bank. I am your lovely teller, Grell Sutcliff. How can I help you?”

“Your business is with me,” growled the boy, “I have come for the deed to my family’s ranch.”

Grell frowned slightly. “And just who might you be, boy?”

“I am Ciel Phantomhive; son of Vincent Phantomhive,” he announced, “I returned to the area only days ago only to find that my father’s property has been entrusted to this bank. I’ve come to claim it. However, I’d still like to know why the deed is even here. There was no mortgage owed on the Phantomhive Ranch. It was owned by my father – free and clear.”

“The deed is our possession because we were led to believe there were no heirs,” announced a rather cool voice from the doorway of a nearby office.

“Oh, Will,” Grell cooed, “We have new customers.”

“As I can see,” came the immediate response. The speaker stepped out of the office fully and approached Ciel and Sebastian. He was about the same height in Sebastian and dressed impeccably in a dark suit and tie. His black hair was carefully combed back and his eyes, the same unique color as Grell’s, regarded the two behind no-nonsense glasses. “I am William T. Spears; president of this bank. It is true that we have the deed to the Phantomhive Ranch in our possession but, as I stated previously, we were led to believe that there were no heirs. Vincent and his wife were killed in a fire that destroyed their house, and no trace of their son could be found.”

“I am well aware of what happened to my parents,” Ciel said, “but as you can see, I’ve returned, and the property is legally mine.”

William adjusted his glasses as he looked down at him. “While I recognize that Ciel Phantomhive would indeed have a legal right to the land, I am reluctant to hand over this deed without any proof of your identity. Any young boy could claim to be this heir. Not only that, Ciel would be nearly thirteen years old if my math is correct, and you are quite small for a boy that age.”

Ciel gritted his teeth, but Sebastian stepped forward before he could respond. “I understand what you are saying, but surely you can see our dilemma as well. My young master here only wishes to return to his family’s property and put his painful past behind him.”

“And who might you be?”

“Sebastian Michaelis,” he answered with a slight bow, “nothing more a humble servant. Please, tell me how my young master might prove his identity.”

William seemed to consider the matter for a moment. “I need positive identification from another party,” he finally answered, “Is there anyone in this town who would be able to verify this claim?”

“I was barely ever in this pit you have the audacity to call a town,” snarled Ciel, “but I did notice the China Saloon on my way in. Is Mr. Lau still the owner? He’s been out to the ranch, and he’s seen me with the father.”

There was a barely perceptible nod from William. “Sutcliff,” he called, “Go over to the saloon and see if Mr. Lau is available.”

“Sure, darling,” agreed the redhead. He stepped out from behind the counter and started towards the door, but William stopped him.

“Firstly, I am not your darling,” he stated, “Secondly, what are you wearing?”

From behind the counter, Grell’s full body hadn’t been visible so it had simply been assumed by everyone that he was wearing slacks that went with his dress shirt and vest, but the moment he stepped out it became obvious that he was wearing his shirt over a rather long, elaborate red and black dress. The bustle was in place, giving the illusion of a fuller backside, but the ruffles in the front of the dress scandalously revealed the legs up to the knees. Beneath the dress, he was wearing stockings and rather elaborate, high-heeled red boots. “Isn’t it lovely?” Grell asked, spinning around, “I saw it in the window over at Nina’s dress shop the other day and I just had to have it.”

“Honestly,” William said, shaking his head, “Get back behind the counter. Knox?”

A younger man with blond hair that seemed unusually dark near the base popped his head out of a doorway in the back of the bank. Like the other two, he had green-gold eyes, although his oversized glasses seemed almost more stylish than functional. He swallowed a bite of food he had been chewing before speaking. “Yes, Mr. Spears?”

“I know it’s your lunch break, Knox,” William began, “but I need you to step over to the saloon and see if Mr. Lau is available. If he is, ask him to return with you to the bank as we have pressing issues to resolve.”

“But if I lose part of my lunch break, I’ll have to be given more time to eat later, and I don’t want to end up working overtime again.”

“Just hurry back, Ronald,” Grell said, “I would go, but it seems like Will just doesn’t understand what it means to be fashionable.”

Ronald stepped out and looked at Grell’s dress, although it was obvious he had seen it before. Shaking his head, he walked on around the counter and towards the front door. “Actually,” he said, turning around towards Grell, “you look like you’d fit in better at the saloon then I would – especially as one of those girls Lau has handing out the drinks.”

Grell gasped and threw an ink well at Ronald, which only barely missed his head. It hit the wall, leaving a huge, black blot and fell to the floor where it continued to spill its contents. “I’ll have you know I’m a true lady and not some harlot, you brat!” he announced.

Ronald laughed, and it was obvious he had been meaning to tease rather than actually insult. With a huge smile, he quickly left the bank to make his way towards the saloon.

“Sutcliff, clean up your mess,” William demanded.

With a shrug, Grell went to back where he retrieved some rags to clean up the spilled ink. He also seemed to have some sort of cleaning solution and the ink was quickly removed, although there was the faintest ghost of slightly darker section still visible on the wall. Grell continued to try and clean it completely, but it seemed that a small portion of the stain would remain no matter how hard he tried. Just as he was returning behind the counter to toss out the used rags, Ronald returned with two individuals.

The first newcomer was a Chinese man that was undoubtedly the Mr. Lau he had been sent to retrieve. He was a tall, slender man with a casual smile decorating his well-formed features. An attractive woman was clinging to his side as if he was a life raft in the middle of a turbulent ocean. An exotic beauty, her dark hair was arranged in an elaborate style not typically seen in the area, and her revealing outfit highlighted her figure.

“Why, Mr. Spears, I thought you said that didn’t want my money in your bank,” Lau said; his native accent flavored his speech although his English was perfect. He turned towards the woman, “Isn’t that right, Ran-Mao?” 

Ran-Mao didn’t answer, although she did turn her brown eyes towards William briefly, who adjusted his glasses. “I still have no desire for any of your profits to rest within one of my vaults,” William replied, “but I do require some information or rather identification.”

“As I guessed,” returned Lau, “I knew that one day he would return.”

“I find that rather surprising,” William stated, “I was under the assumption that he was considered dead.”

“Oh, is that what everyone assumed? I thought that people realized he was still alive and just biding his time before he returned,” Lau said. He smiled brightly as he looked about the room at the confused faces. “So, who exactly what we’re talking about?”

“What?” Ronald cried, “I thought you knew! What were you babbling on about then if you had no idea who we were needing you to identify?”

Lau shrugged, and William shook his head as he cleared his throat. “I was hoping that you’d be able to identify Ciel Phantomhive,” he said.

“Is that all?” Lau asked in response, “Why, that’s him standing right there.” He pointed to the boy confidently, who looked relieved for the first time since he had entered the bank.

“Are you sure?” demanded William, “It is of upmost importance that you are not mistaken in this.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure,” Lau answered, walking over towards Ciel with Ran-Mao still in tow. He touched the boy’s head gently as he continued talking. “It has been a few years, but I saw the boy the last time I visited with his father, and this most certainly is the same child. He rather looks like his father, I think. Of course, I would have expected him to grow a bit more since I last saw him, but this child is most certainly Vincent’s son.”

Ciel seemed rather annoyed with Lau’s commentary, but Sebastian’s handsome features were curled in a slight smile, and he looked as if he might laugh. “Thank you, sir,” he said to Lau.

“It was my pleasure,” Lau responded and he turned to look at William, “Is there anything else you need of me? Since you won’t allow me to store my money in your fine establishment, I really need to be hurrying back to my business.”

“That will be all,” William said dismissively.

Lau bowed slightly and started towards the door, but then he paused briefly. “Oh, Mr. Knox,” he said, “I’m happy to tell you that your favorite flower will be unoccupied tonight. I’m sure she would enjoy your company.”

“Thanks,” Ronald replied in a somewhat uncomfortable tone as if he didn’t like his after work activities being discussed in front of his boss, although William seemed unaffected by the exchange.

With a gentle nod, Lau and Ran-Mao left the bank, and Sebastian turned his full attention to William once more. “I trust we have satisfied your condition,” stated Sebastian, “A third party has identified my young master. Now, if you would be so kind as to hand him the deed.”

William didn’t appear pleased with this development, but he simply held up his hand. “Please wait here,” he instructed before walking behind the counter and opening a barred section that no doubt led the vaults. He disappeared inside and a series of rather loud tumblers could he heard echoing through the bank. After several minutes, all the locks could be heard being reinstated and William returned to the front with a piece of paper in his tight grasp.

“There’s really nothing left of the ranch except the skeletal remains of the house and a few of the barns,” announced William as he extended the deeds toward Ciel, who snatched the paper away rather quickly.

“That’s really none of your concern,” replied Ciel, “besides, I have a capable servant in Sebastian here. Now that I have this, my business is concluded here. Come on, Sebastian.”

Sebastian nodded towards William, the same self-satisfied smile never leaving his face, before making his way towards the door so that he could open it for Ciel. Once the door was closed, Ronald let out a loud breath. “So the reports are true,” he said.

“We can’t be for certain just yet, Knox,” William instructed, “Although it appears we did receive correct information concerning Sebastian at least. We must keep a watchful eye on both of them. The investigation hinges on it, and we must ensure that this creature never figures out the true contents of our vaults. Sutcliff?”

“Yes, my darling ice prince?”

William shook his head, but didn’t seem to want to waste any time correcting Grell. “Follow them and learn what you can about the situation.”

Grell smiled brightly. “But aren’t you worried that the dashing Sebastian might just steal my heart away from you, love?” he asked playfully.

“If you let yourself become fooled by that false face he has now, then it would be your own fault,” returned William, “We both know that his true form is repulsive. Just disguise yourself and keep an eye on both this boy and that creature.”

“You want me to hide my beautiful self in some dreary disguise?” Grell asked with a mock pout, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He ran his hand through his hair and quickly the vibrant red color faded into a dull, muddy brown and his eyes became a lackluster green. “Yes sir, Mr. Spears,” he said in a faux humble tone, “I’ll get to it right away.” With his head down and his steps uncertain, he started to leave the bank.

William sighed loudly. “Honestly, Sutcliff,” he said, “You should know that disguise will not work like that.”

“Like what?” Grell demanded in his natural tone.

“Slacks, Sutcliff. Try putting on some slacks.”

Grell looked down and smiled. “It seems like such a shame to hide my legs,” he said, “but I suppose it’s a sacrifice that I have to make for now.” Laughing to himself, he returned to the back of the bank and went up a set of almost hidden stairs that led to their living quarters. “I won’t let you down, my darling,” he called downstairs.

“I’m not your darling,” William said mostly to himself. Quickly, he adjusted his glasses as he returned to his office to pen a quick note to his superiors. His pigeon, Rosalind, watched him intently with her dark eyes as he wrote the letter and prepared to attach it to her leg. Although the letter itself was light, and would not weigh down his beloved pigeon too much, the content in those few written lines was weighted with a heavy, grim prospect.

((x))

Ciel’s coach rattled over the rough terrain, but Sebastian expertly guided the horses to ensure the smoothest trip possible. The Phantomhive Ranch was quite a bit away from the town, but soon enough it came into view. However, it wasn’t anything like the people in End of the Line would have expected especially after hearing the reports of the tragedy which had occurred here nearly three years prior.

William had described the house as skeletal remains, which would have true only a week ago, but that was before Sebastian had a chance to rebuild with his rather inhuman skills and talents. Now, it was exactly the same as it had been before, although Ciel could only give vague and indeterminate descriptions. It had been almost three years since he had seen the home nor was it the one he had spent most of his time before his parents’ death. His father had houses in many locations, although it had been easy to claim ownership of most with Sebastian’s help. In fact, the ranch had been the hardest for him to procure, but it was the most important for the task that Ciel had in mind.

As the coach pulled close to the house, four figures emerged from inside and stood on the low, broad porch. Their clothing immediately identified their positions within the household. Although this ranch boasted the finest house for many counties, five servants almost seemed a bit too much for such a rustic location, but each had their own reasons for being there. They all stood back respectfully as Sebastian brought the coach to a halt and prepared the step for Ciel to exit, but each of their faces held expectant expressions.

The boy stepped forward and calmly looked at his servants, but he already knew exactly what they were all wondering. “I have the deed,” he announced calmly as he held up the aforementioned document.

“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed the youngest of the servants. At first glance, he barely looked older than Ciel with his small statute, unruly blonde hair and large, green eyes. The faintest hint of a German accent accompanied his words when he spoke. His clothing was indicative that he was a gardener, but the pathetic, wilted plants barely poking out of the ground of the supposed garden spoke to his lack of talents.

“I had no doubts,” said the man dressed in white chef’s clothing, “Not with Sebastian being there with and all. He can do anything!” With his rugged face and perpetual facial stubble, he looked the most at home in the area of any of the servants. He ran one hand through his blonde hair as he took a drag from the cigarette clenched tightly in his mouth. His blue eyes sparkled with admiration as he spoke.

“That’s right. Sebastian is amazing,” agreed the maid. Her red hair, poking out from beneath her frilled cap, almost matched the blush that appeared on the part of her face that was visible around her rather large, thick glasses whose glare obscured her eyes from view.

“I only did what was required of a Phantomhive servant,” Sebastian countered, before turning his attention to the gardener. “Finny, take the coach and horses into the stable, and do mind your strength. We don’t need another incident like last time.”

“I’ll take care of it right away,” Finny agreed as he arranged his straw hat. Being obviously careful, he took hold of the horses and led them and the carriage around the house.

“Bardroy. Mey-Rin.” Sebastian began, addressing the cook and the maid, “There is still much the needs to be done. The young master is tired and is going to retire to his study, so he is not to be disturbed.”

“Yes, sir,” the both readily agreed as they turned and hurried back into the house. Mey-Rin risked one more glance back at Sebastian and tripped as she stepped through the doorway. Her crush on the butler couldn’t have been more obvious if she had painted her feelings across her forehead.

“And Tanaka,” stated Sebastian as he looked at the last servant. He was dressed in typical butler’s garb, but his dark eyes were unfocused and his smile had a dreamlike, distant quality. It was obvious that the older man with the silver hair and dignified wrinkles wasn’t fully there mentally, and Sebastian’s voice softened slightly as he addressed him. “Why don’t you keep an eye on the others to make sure they are doing their jobs correctly?”

Tanaka chuckled softly and shuffled into the house as to follow Sebastian’s request. While there were times that the former head butler was fully aware of himself and his surroundings, those moments were becoming fewer and farther between as of late.

Ciel and Sebastian also started into the house, but Mey-Rin was waiting just inside the entrance. “I almost forgot,” she said nervously, “Some letters arrived for the master.” She handed two envelopes to Sebastian before disappearing towards the rear of the house to complete some errand.

Without speaking, Ciel made his way to his study as Sebastian followed, firmly closing the door behind them. The boy sat down in a chair that almost seemed to swallow his small form as he laid his head and arms upon the massive, mahogany desk. “Who are the letters from, Sebastian?”

“The first one is from your Aunt, Francis Midford,” Sebastian answered calmly, as he removed his coat to reveal his typical butler’s attire. The coat was returned to a closet before Ciel could even recognize the movement or action.

“No doubt to see if I’ve arrived safely at the ranch,” Ciel mumbled, but then he looked up at Sebastian with a curious expression. “The man at the bank, the president, didn’t he say that the deed was there because there were no heirs?”

“He did, sir,” answered Sebastian.

“Couldn’t my aunt have claimed the property?” asked Ciel, “She had a right to do so as my father’s sister, and she’s married.”

“I suppose that she could,” replied Sebastian, “but perhaps she didn’t wish to do so.”

“I wonder why she wouldn’t.”

Sebastian smiled slightly as he titled his head to allow his ebony strands of hair to fall across his sculptured, pale face. “Maybe she was holding out hope for your safe return.”

Ciel snorted. “I doubt that,” he answered, “My aunt is not one to hold on to such foolish fantasies and sentimental nonsense. Besides, it would have been a wasted hope.” He sighed as he sat up and interlaced his fingers. “Still, I’d like to know why the deed was in that bank. I know there’s no such thing as a courthouse in that town, but usually such documents are held by lawyers or in some other public office. Deeds usually go to the bank only if there is money owed.”

“Perhaps there is no such places here,” Sebastian offered.

“Perhaps,” Ciel agreed, closing his visible eye, “I’m getting rather hungry, Sebastian. I think I would like my lunch.”

“Of course,” Sebastian replied, “There is, however, the matter of the other letter, which was sent by the President.

Ciel’s eye flew open as he took the letter quickly from Sebastian’s outstretched hand. In a matter of minutes, he had read the contents and allowed the letter to fall upon his desk like the final leaf of autumn. “It is exactly as we guessed,” he announced, “President Cleveland wants us to gather information about a few of the remaining games from some harlot – ‘Limbs Lenore’ to be more precise. What sort of name is that?”

“I’ve heard that she’s a rather unattractive woman,” answered Sebastian, “Very tall and quite gangly so that she appears to be all legs and arms.”

“Not to mention the fact that other women in her chosen profession have a tendency to wind up dead with their limbs hacked off whenever she’s around,” added Ciel. It was obvious the question had been somewhat a rhetorical one. Shaking his head slightly, he got up from the chair and walked over to the large window behind him. “Where are you?” he asked in a whispery tone.

“Sir?”

“I was talking to my parents’ murderer,” Ciel replied, “I’ve done everything I’ve set out to do so far, Sebastian. I became a Pinkerton agent just like my father, despite their reservations about my age, and I’m also the President’s Hound – sniffing out the ruffians and remaining outlaws so that this land can become civilized. All of this just like my father. I’m living on the very property he was murdered in, and I’m investigating the very case he was at the time of his death. Even the President’s orders fit in since this Lenore was supposedly connected to the James-Younger gang in some manner. The trap is set, Sebastian, and everything is as it should be. I am playing the part of the cheese, and now we’d just have to wait for the rats to make their appearance.”

“Indeed, master,” Sebastian agreed, “And do you really think that this matter your father was looking into was related to his murder?”

“There must be some relation,” insisted Ciel, “My father didn’t have to hide his deeds as he was protected by both the Pinkertons and the President. Even if he didn’t allow his name to be attached to the death of some outlaw, it wasn’t a matter that had to be kept hidden. That’s what makes the death of Jesse James so unusual. First, there is this cover-up with the made up tale that he was shot by Bob Ford while hanging a picture. I’m almost more surprised that people bought the story that an outlaw such as that would turn his back so readily on an armed man than by the fact that they accepted a corpse of the wrong height.”

There was another of Sebastian’s smiles. “I’m not sure about that being such a surprise. If I recall, Mr. William Hickok had his back to the door while studying his infamous dead man’s hand during a poker game when he was shot.”

“Anyone who decides to give himself the nickname of ‘Wild Bill’ to try and stir up respect was certainly more talk than action, although I will admit he was a good shot,” Ciel replied, “But this cover-up concerning James was very peculiar. Then, three years after most of the country has accepted his supposed death, my father was assigned to actually end his life, even though the James-Younger gang had long since disbanded.”

“And shortly after killing James your parents were killed and you were-”

“I know precisely what happened,” Ciel interrupted, unconsciously wrapping his arms about his chest briefly, “but now everything is exactly in place. We simply have to wait for the killers to make their move. This time, I’ll be ready because you’ll be here. Right, Sebastian?”

“I’ll be by your side until the very end,” Sebastian replied, bowing slightly, “Now, I’ll attend to your lunch.”

“Very good,” Ciel said, his attention drawn back to the window. He stood there, looking out over his land with silent determination. No doubt he was intending to project the image of a confident cattle rancher and fearless Pinkerton agent, but he looked more like a lost little boy watching and waiting for his father’s return.


	2. Dead Ends at End of the Line

**Chapter 2: Dead Ends In End of the Line**

The wooden structure seemed ancient, yet, despite its sloping and slanted walls, it appeared to harbor an inner strength that would keep it standing long after many of its neighbors had succumbed to the endless heat and wind. A darkness seemed to radiate from inside even though it was standing in the direct path of the relentless sun; an internal shadow too strong for even the desert sun to pierce, but Ciel barely seemed to notice such things as he silently stared at the sign which had been painted with bold, black strokes. "Undertaker," the sign read simply, but that was enough for everyone to know what lay beyond that door.

With a determined step, Ciel walked over to the door and knocked on it briefly before opening it. "I'm coming in," he announced, although a warped bell above the door also sounded his arrival. The clapper hit the dented sides so that its ring sounded more like a choked and garbled cry than a proper clang.

Inside, the darkness was more pronounced as if it was the only living being in this house of death. The sunlight filtered through the doorway only to be swallowed by the dark, but the little it did reveal only caused uneasiness to rise. Spider webs hung from the rafters, laminated by accumulated dust so the webs were a dingy, brown color instead of white or grey. Jars were nestled upon shelves and the meager light dancing off the glass surfaces gave the appearance the containers were filled with fluids and other indistinct shapes that were quite possibly confiscated organs. Coffins were scattered about the room in various shapes and sizes as a foul, unrecognizable scent filled the air. Ciel's hand twisted near his pocket, as if he wished to retrieve his handkerchief once more, but then he paused suddenly in an apparent attempt not to show weakness. "Undertaker?" he called, stepping inside with Sebastian close behind.

A strange, hoarse chuckle twisted about the shop and seemed to emanate from every corner simultaneously. "A new customer," announced a peculiar voice, "Are you here to be fitted for one of my special coffins perhaps?" The lid to an upright coffin slid back slowly revealing a rather tall man with long, platinum hair. He stepped forward and regarded the boy with a strange smile. His slender frame, which swayed as he moved as small tree in the wind, was swathed in a black robe, decorated by a string of funerary beads, and a tall hat planted firmly on his head furthered his already lengthy image. His shiny hair, which shown despite the gloom, was rather long in front and covered his eyes so it was a wonder that he could see. Adding to the mysterious image was raised scar curved about his face and twisted beneath the thick fringe of banes. His smile grew as he stepped forward and tilted his head.

"Aren't you a sight," he said to Ciel, "It's been quite some time, although I would recognize you anywhere. You rather look like your father, although I see a bit of your mother about the eyes. What can I do for you, young Ciel? I have some coffins here that would suit you perfectly."

Ciel's posture became stiff with all this talk of coffins as well as the mention of his late parents. "I've come for information," he said, "As I understand, my father used to come to you quite frequently, and you've even been a guest at the ranch."

"That's true. So, you wish for some information from old Undertaker, do you boy? Then, the rumors are true. You have come and taken your father's old profession or should I say professions." He gave another of his long chuckles as he brought his hands up close to his face. The sleeves fell back as he wiggled his fingers, revealing rather long, black nails and the shimmer of a large emerald ring. Another jagged scar, much like the one on his neck encircled one finger like a second ring "Do you remember my price?" Undertaker asked.

"I don't remember the specifics," Ciel replied, "but name your price. I'm sure it will not be an issue as money is not a concern." He started to motion to Sebastian to produce his purse, but Undertaker held up one of his long fingers to stop him.

"I have no desire for coin or paper money," he said, "What I want is far more valuable than that." He threw his arms opened wide as the smile of a madman lit up a complexion made dull, no doubt, by his time in this dark, shadowy building. "All I require is a first rate laugh. That is finer to me than all the gold in these hills."

"A laugh?" Ciel asked, a look of surprise clearly painted on his features, "You must be joking?"

"I'm not joking," Undertaker replied, "but if you want any information from me, then you best be soon."

Ciel's mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish desperately trying to breathe on land, but he hadn't managed to actually say anything. Seeing his obvious distress, Sebastian stepped forward. "With your permission, master," he said, "I'll take care of this. Please, step outside for a moment."

The boy straightened his already wrinkle free jacket. "Very good, Sebastian," he said, "I'll leave this matter to you." With a false calmness, he walked back outside and allowed the dark door to shut firmly behind him. He stood for a few minutes in the scorching sun as the eyes of the town bore down on his small form, but he didn't flinch of shift uncomfortably. Finally, a loud peal of laughter erupted from inside and Sebastian opened the door.

"You can come inside now," Sebastian said with a satisfied smile. Behind him, Undertaker was leaned over two coffins that had been stacked on top of one another to create a makeshift counter and was slapping the surface as he continued to laugh. "He forgot he was riding the mare!" he shrieked as tears streamed down his pale face.

"You've gotten your laugh, Undertaker," Ciel stated, as he stepped closer to the still laughing man, "Now, we need information."

"And what is it you need to know?" Undertaker managed to ask between ripples of insane laughter.

"Have there been any unusual deaths in End of the Line recently?" questioned Ciel, "More specifically have any women had their arms or legs cut off?"

"Oh, there's no shortage of unusual deaths," Undertaker announced, straightening up as he twisted his long fingers about one another, "People will always find interesting ways to end their lives. As to your second question, however, all of my clients have been whole – more or less. Such a shame too. It might be interesting to have some broken dolly that needed to be stitched together again."

Ciel frowned as his face twitched with disgust. "This has been a waste of time," he mumbled, as he turned and headed towards the door.

"But there was one unfortunate lass," Undertaker added, "one of the young ladies from the China Saloon, I believe, that did have a rather nasty cut on her arm. It was almost like someone had cut the poor dear's arm off." He chuckled again and it seemed that he didn't think the girl was a 'poor dear' as much as he had let on.

"When was this?" Ciel demanded, whirling back around.

The man leaned his head back as if searching for the answer in the dusty rafters for an answer. "About two weeks, I suppose," he finally answered, "She was quite lively, and she squirmed dreadfully when I was stitching her wound. I prefer my clients to be a bit more still. It seems I'm the closest this town has to a doctor, since…" He allowed his voice to drift off as his smile never wavered.

Ciel's mouth clenched and his fist tightened. When he spoke, his voice was measured as if he was doing his best to control his emotions. "Is this woman still working for Mr. Lau?" he asked.

Undertaker shrugged nonchalantly as he retrieved what one could only assume was a bone shaped cookie from a nearby urn. "I don't rightly know," he said, chomping into the cookie and chewing as he spoke, "I've never been to that establishment, although I can say that this dear girl hasn't returned, so it safe to assume she's still alive."

"Do all the dead of this town pass through here?" questioned Ciel.

"You could say I have the best business in town," answered Undertaker with a smile as he finished his treat, "Everyone here has need for my services at some point."

Ciel seemed to consider this for a moment before he finally nodded. "I see," he finally said before turning to Sebastian. "I suppose that we should speak with Mr. Lau now."

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian responded with a slight bow. He walked over and opened the door for the boy but, just as he was about to cross back out into the blinding sun, Undertaker called out to him.

"Just remember," Undertaker began, "you can't promise things that don't belong to you. When you have a borrowed gift, watch over it carefully."

Whirling about, Ciel stared at Undertaker with a dark frown. "What the devil does that mean?" he asked.

Undertaker shrugged as he took another bite of the cookie. It was obvious that he was going to say all he was concerning the matter, and Ciel's frown only darkened. "I don't have time for this," he growled, "Come on Sebastian."

The sun hit them like a physical force, but Ciel seemed to barely notice as he boldly made his way to Lau's saloon. A few drunks on the outside porch looked up as he walked to the door, but no one made any move to stop the boy from entering. Inside, the smoke hung like a cloying banner, and Ciel coughed despite his efforts to the contrary. No one else seemed to notice the smoke as men laughed and drank, only occasionally pausing to paw at the attractive women in brightly colored, revealing outfits that weaved through the crowd. Mr. Lau was standing behind the bar with Ran-Mao still at his side. The same smile as before was painted on his carefree face, but he was holding his hands up in front of him and shaking his head to a man who was standing in front of him across the bar. As Ciel approached, he studied the man although he had not seen him before. His shaggy, auburn hair was tucked under a large, brown hat with a wide brim, but his blue eyes seemed more than a little desperate.

"I…WAS…ASKING…ABOUT…ILLEGAL…SUBSTANCES," the man practically shouted. He was saying each word slowly and as clearly as possible. As he moved, becoming animated with his words, his deputy badge winked in the dim light.

Lau shook his head again, but then he turned towards Ciel. "Oh, I thought I might see you again," he said, "Isn't that right, Ran-Mao?"

"I need to ask you about one of your…employees that was injured," Ciel announced.

"Just as I would have guessed," Lau replied, "Please, come with me to a more private room."

"Wait!" the deputy screamed, "You speak English?! I thought you couldn't. Why were you acting like you couldn't understand me."

Lau smiled casually and motioned with his hands. Suddenly, several of the women flocked to him like birds with brightly colored plumage. They surrounded the hapless deputy, who seemed a bit overwhelmed by the attention. "Keep Deputy Abberline company," Lau instructed, "We don't want our dear deputy to be lonely while I take care of other business." With this taken care of, Lau led Ciel and Sebastian to a locked room in the back of the saloon. Unlike the rest of the building, this room was clear and intricately decorated. "So, you came back," Lau said, as he relaxed on a couch and Ran-Mao took her appointed place by his side.

"No games this time, Lau," Ciel stated without preamble, "I need to ask you about one of your girls that was injured recently."

"When have I ever played games?" Lau replied with mock innocence. When Ciel didn't respond, Lau simply regarded him with a tilt of the head. "So you need to know something about one of the ladies here?"

"Yes," Ciel confirmed, "Undertaker said that one of the women here had her arm almost cut off. Who did that?"

Lau's expression didn't change. "Something like that did happen recently," he admitted, "but I'm afraid I don't know anything about the culprit other than that it was another woman and that she had come here looking for employment. Tell me, young Ciel, why does this matter interest you?"

"It doesn't matter," Ciel said, bristling under the questioning, "Do you know where I might find this woman?"

Running his hand over Ran-Mao's thigh, Lau shook his head. "I'm afraid I have no idea," he answered, although there was something in his tone that seemed to indicate he knew more than he was saying.

Ciel stood there for a moment, but then he sighed loudly. "Come on, Sebastian," he said in a heavy tone.

"Come back anytime you wish," Lau said, continuing to pet Ran-Mao's thigh as if she were a cat, "We'll be here."

Without pausing, Ciel hurried back through the saloon, holding his breath so that he didn't have to breathe in the smoke. As he stepped outside, he sighed heavily in the oppressive heat.

"You there!" a voice shouted. Turning, Ciel saw the deputy he had noticed before inside the saloon hurrying towards him. "Did you have business with Mr. Lau?" he asked.

"I did but it's been concluded," Ciel replied icily.

The deputy smiled, as he rearranged his wide-brimmed hat. "I'm Deputy Abberline," he announced, "So do you know Mr. Lau?"

"In a way," Ciel mumbled as he turned to walk away.

"So he does speak English?" Abberline asked desperately.

"You heard him," Ciel answered, but then he paused. "You say you're the deputy of this town. Do you know anything about an attack on one of the women working in Lau's saloon a couple of weeks ago?"

"Well, I know a little about it, but I can't give you the details," Abberline replied, "You'll have to ask the sheriff, but he's out of town at the moment." As he spoke, the deputy took a few steps back but he tripped off the edge of the porch. He twisted dramatically as he fell in an almost graceful fashion before landing face first into a pile of manure on the edge of the dirt road.

"Pathetic," Ciel mumbled as he turned and walked away.

"I'm rather surprised this town is still standing," Sebastian mused, "Considering who seems to be running it. So, what do wish to do now?"

"I don't know," admitted Ciel as he rubbed his temples, "This entire trip has been a waste. No one here knows anything."

"I'm not so sure about that," Sebastian answered cryptically.

Ciel shot his butler a fiery look. "You've figured something out, haven't you?" he demanded.

Sebastian smiled in response.

((x))

Grell looked out over the Phantomhive Ranch and let out a whistle of appreciation. She knew he shouldn't be shocked by anything, but she couldn't help but appreciate how quickly this place had been brought back to its former glory. Only a short time ago, she had been out here and seen these place was nothing more than some charred lumber with one wall that leaned at precarious angle. Now, it looked better than she had even remembered. As she was standing near one of the corals, however, she could have done without the smell.

"Hey you!" a voice called, "What are you doing here?"

Turning, Grell saw a young man with blonde hair and green eyes hurrying her way. Immediately adopting a humble stance, she bowed her head slightly as he approached. "I was just here to look at the legendary Phantomhive cattle," she said quickly, as she, "I represent an agency that deals with both buying and selling of herds. Do you know if there's any interest in selling any of these fine animals?" Although she hated to in such a plain form and dressed in the slacks that William had insisted upon, at least her appearance didn't arouse any immediate suspicion.

The young man shook his head. "I don't think I heard Mr. Phantomhive talking about selling any cows or bulls," he said, "and that's a good thing. Cows are such gentle animals you know." With a bright small, he jumped on the railing about the coral, and several of the aforementioned animals came up to him for attention. "I've named all of them," he announced, "This one here is Betty, and that Gertrude, and over there is Josephine. Aren't those fine names for cows?"

Grell usually preferred to call cows dinner, but didn't say anything directly. "Is this Mr. Phantomhive home at the moment?" she asked.

"Not right now," replied the young blonde, "but he should be home soon."

Almost as if on cue, a coach began rattling up to the ranch. Grell started to make a quick exit just in case Sebastian might see through her drag disguise, but she quickly saw that this wasn't the Phantomhive coach. Along with the boy, she followed as the other servants to the front of the house. Although they cast her strange looks, no one said anything directly to Grell as they waited for the coach to be pulled to a stop.

The door floor opened and a blonde girl in an elaborate red and white dress jumped out. "Oh Ciel! I'm here!" She started running towards the house.

"Elizabeth," a woman who looked enough like the girl to guess they were mother and daughter, "A lady shouldn't be running and jumping like that."

"I'm sorry, Mama," Elizabeth apologized as she stopped, however it was obvious that she wanted to run inside as quickly as possible.

The woman looked over the servants in a rather disagreeable fashion. "So where is my young nephew and that disgraceful slob he calls a butler?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Frances," apologized the maid, "He went into town, but he should be getting back any minute."

"I see," Frances said in a disagreeable tone. Her eyes narrowed when her gaze fell upon Grell. "And who are you? I don't remember seeing you before."

"He was just looking at the cattle," offered the young man Grell had spoken with before.

"Is that so," Frances said, "And what is your name Mr..."

Grell winced inwardly at the mister, but had an answer ready. "Gean Scarlett," she answered quickly, "I was just here to see if Mr. Phantomhive wanted to buy or sell any cattle, but I'll just come back at a later time." Before anyone could object, she hurried down the road. Her keen ears had already picked up on a second coach heading this way, and she was fairly certain that this one would be Ciel and Sebastian. It probably would be best to make her exit now.

It was hard to find a place to hide in the flat expanse of the desert, but she did find a tall rock to duck behind. Once out of sight, she made a portal so she could return to the bank unseen. She had much to tell William.

 

****

**A/N: I chose the name Gean Scarlett since it had the same initials as Grell Sutcliff. Gean is spelled in that manner so that it's a combination of the typically masculine spelling of Gene and the usual feminine version of Jean. The joke that Sebastian tells Undertaker goes like this:**

**A cowboy is riding the trails one spring day when he comes across a rattlesnake sunning itself in the narrow mountain path. The cowboy pulls out his gun to shoot the snake, but the rattlesnake suddenly says, "Don't shoot! You see, I'm a magic snake and, if you let me live, I'll grant you three wishes. The cowboy figures he doesn't have much to lose since he's out of range for the snake to strike, so he agrees. He wishes for a face more handsome than the most handsome man, a strong, masculine body rippling with muscles, and the sexual equipment like the horse he was riding. The snake agrees and tells the cowboy he'll have all three when he gets to the bunkhouse. The cowboy rides back to the bunkhouse quickly and immediately goes to the mirror. He sees a very handsome face looking back at him. Ripping his shirt off, he sees his body is very muscular and strong. Excited, he pulls down his pants, but then he screams, "Oh no! I forgot I was riding the mare!"  
**


End file.
